Thinking about sitting between my brothers at a restaurant as they play with me under the table while around their friends. They know that their sister is a hypersexual girl. They always see me squirm and squeeze my thighs together. They have seen how I soak through my panties and shorts at times.
They can't help themselves one day and while out with their friends one of my brothers places his hand on my thigh. Leaves it there for a while just playing with the fat on it. They know my cues, the squirming, squeezing of the thighs, the shaky voice, and he sees me deep into thought. His touch is not making anything better as he spreads me a little more. I glance at him as he casually keeps talking with his friends.
He runs his fingers over my already wet panties. I bite my lip trying not to whine as he pulls them to the side. I look around shyly and grab his wrist but it's nothing. He slowly rubs my clit and keeps talking until he's sinking his fingers into me. I gasp softly but play it off with a shy smile and giggle. Their friends are still not noticing I'm getting fingered by my brother.
My other brother next to me suddenly notices but doesn't say anything. He just smirks and grabs my thigh, placing it over his, and casually spreading me even more. The place is loud so no one can hear how wet my cunt sounds. My brothers make me order my own food as I stutter and squeak softly. His fingers curving just right and my face is flushing. Everyone thinks it's so cute and that I'm just shy.
Then I feel another hand on my cunt and tense up. I wasn't going to last as my other brother starts to rub my clit. I cover my face with my hand casually as my other brother guides my other thigh over his too. Thank goodness for the way this table is set up no one can see me spread open getting my cunt rubbed and fingered. I try to keep casual as I smile and talk but my face is so flushed. My breathing is getting harshed, it's getting hard to keep my voice controlled, and I'm starting to squirm even more.
I glance at my brothers and try to close my legs but they don't let me. I wasn't going to cum so casually from this, this was a big build up. Luck being on my side suddenly they start singing happy birthday to someone. Everyones attention turns to that side of the restaurant and my eyes flutter back as I let out a small squeal. Cumming all over their fingers and even onto the floor. No one can hear how I cum thanks to the loud singing. I'm panting and shaking as they slow down their advances with smirks.
I try to regain myself as everyone goes back to their casual things. They bring over the food causing my brothers to pull away. I watch as they casually suck off their fingers. I blush when their friends think they just tried whatever they ordered and they respond about how amazing it taste. Halfway during our meal they'll reposition me, this time switching places. Having to eat and try not to choke as they play with my cunt all over again. This time being more sensitive so it's harder to hide my reactions.
Not having an interruption this time to be able to hide the way I cum on my brother's fingers again. Having to smile and act like I'm okay when they are already trying to get a third one out of me. Overthinking because no way their friends can be that stupid, right? Maybe they are so when we leave one of them questions the wetness on the floor. Having to say I spilled some water when I didn't drink water. Or they are all purposely stalling, talking for hours, letting/encouraging their friends to finger their sister and recording my spread legs under the table.
You lived in a small, quiet village. It was a beautiful place, like something out of a fairy tale, surrounded by trees and mountains. The villagers were happy, prosperous, and had known only peace for centuries. Their crops grew, the rain was plentiful, and their livestock grew strong and fat.
But that prosperity came with a price.
It was something that no one ever discussed in more than hushed whispers. Every year, twenty-eight days before the summer solstice, a sacrifice was to be made to their god. Their god never took a life in repayment for the protection they provided. Instead, it asked that the villagers gave life.
And you'd been chosen to do just that.
It was the evening before the summer solstice, and the village was hosting a feast in your honour. Everyone was there, family and friends, all coming together to celebrate that you'd been chosen to serve your god. Tomorrow night, you'd travel up the mountain to await your fate, left alone in a cave for the one you all worshipped to make itself known.
Excitement and apprehension had butterflies taking wing in the pit of your tummy. You'd tried asking around to the others who'd been chosen, but they'd always been very secretive. No one else in the village seemed to know what happened up on the mountain, only that the chosen would keep to themselves after, never to marry or bear children. And while they'd never seemed to long for a different kind of life, you couldn't help but worry that the same future awaited you.
But there wasn't time to worry. The celebration was over, and it was time for you to go to bed one last time before your life changed forever.
You woke up early the next morning, having slept fitfully the night before. Your small house was dreadfully quiet, and you had a brief moment to wish you still lived with your family. The sounds of them going about their normal routine would have been soothing on a day like this one.
But the day after you'd been chosen, you'd been given a home of your own to live in among the others who'd served your god. It had been something of a lonely time since you'd moved in. The others were polite and kind, but distant. You understood why; they held secrets no one else in the village knew, and that surely weighed on them.
Anxiety had your tummy in knots, so you only managed to choke down a few mouthfuls of breakfast. You took a seat at your kitchen table, waiting for the sun to rise. It was then that you heard a quiet knock on the door.
It was time.
You rose unsteadily to your feet, smoothing your clothing as best you could. When you opened the door, you found the others waiting. They all looked completely calm. You wished you could say the same for yourself. Swallowing hard, you followed them out of the village and up the mountain path. It was a steep slope, but none of the others seemed to have any trouble traversing it. You wondered if you'd grow accustomed to walking this path too someday.
You were sweating by the time you reached the cave. A soft sigh of relief escaped you as you stepped into the welcoming darkness. One of the others told you to stay there, and you watched as their outlines passed you as they headed deeper into the cave. They moved quickly and confidently, despite the gloom.
Fidgeting, you waited for further instructions. A gentle hand took you by the elbow, startling you from your worry.
"Don't worry," they murmured in a low voice. "We were all anxious when we first came here."
It was reassuring to know, but you couldn't unstick your tongue enough to thank them for their kindness. Instead, you nodded wordlessly. There was nothing for you to do but wait.
Finally, light flared in the distance. Someone lit one torch and then another, and another, filling the cavern with light. You blinked against the brightness. Still, relief flooded through you that you could see your surroundings at last. You glanced around eagerly, taking in as much as you could.
But the cave was… well, perhaps unremarkable was the wrong word, but not nearly as fantastic as you had expected it to be. Stalacites hung from the ceiling of the cave, while the floor was clear. And in the dim light, you could see a faint shimmer against the walls.
Was that… water?
You took a step forward before you could think better of it, utterly entranced. How had you not known that this was here? You were seized by the urge to dip your toes into the water, to feel its coolness lapping at your skin.
One of the others stopped you from getting any closer. Their smile was gentle.
"Patience, little one," they said. "First, we must prepare you."
Prepare you? What did that mean?
They took you by the hand and led you to the edge of the pool and then around it. You found that you could hardly tear your gaze away from its smooth surface.
"Watch your step."
The warning forced you to look where you were going. On the other side of the pool was a circular dais, elevated just enough for whoever was upon it to look down at the water.
You knew without asking that that was where you would wait for your god.
The others led you up to the dais, and shock rippled through you as they began to strip. You balked.
"What… what are you doing?" you stammered.
"We do not hide from the one we serve."
There was no chastisement in the response, and yet you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. What a foolish question to have asked. You quickly disrobed and couldn't help but allow your gaze to wander, not to the water this time, but to the others around you.
They all had a similar build, you noticed. Rounded hips and tummies, and full, luscious tits.
Arousal pooled low in your belly even as your cheeks heated.
Now was not the time for such thoughts.
The others were completely bare now, and they gestured for you to go on ahead of them. A soft gasp escaped you as soon as you set foot on the first step. Instead of being cool as you'd expected, the stone was warm, like a living thing.
This truly was a holy place.
It was only once you'd reached the very top of the dais that the others joined you. They surrounded you on all sides, some of them even brushing against you. The sight and feel of so much bare flesh was enough to fluster you, and you concentrated keeping your gaze focused on the ground.
That was why you didn't notice anyone reaching for the bottles until a gentle hand slid down your back. You jumped, started despite yourself.
"Oh, dear." The one who'd touched you pulled away immediately. "I'm sorry, we should have warned you." A soft smile, a gentle hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "We need to prepare you for this evening. These oils are to get you ready."
Get you ready?
"What does that…" You licked your lips and tried again. "What does that mean?"
But they didn't explain. Instead, someone held a bottle of oil up to your nose, allowing you to take a whiff.
Your mouth watered. Arousal rolled through you like thunder, and your knees went weak. Unable to utter another word of protest, you allowed your eyelids to flutter closed and surrendered yourself to their ministrations. Hands smoothed over your skin, gliding across your tummy and down your legs; fingers slipping between the globes of your ass and over your nipples.
Fuck, you were so turned on you could scarcely breathe.
They touched you everywhere. The soles of your feet, the backs of your knees, under your armpits. You were eased down onto your back on the dais, and the others followed you down. And that was when you felt it.
Long, confident fingers slipped between your legs and deep into your drenched cunt.
You should have been surprised. No one had mentioned anything about this. And yet, you knew that you would rather bite off your own tongue than tell them to stop. Instead, you spread your legs further, granting them further access to your supine body.
"That's it," someone murmured from just behind you. "We're to prepare your whole body."
"It is our god's will," someone else said, just to your right. They rolled your nipples between clever fingers.
"Yes," you moaned. "Yes, please."
An eternity seemed to pass.
An infinite number of hands caressed your body, spreading the oil and your own wetness across your skin. They even lubed up your asshole, deft fingers playing with the tight muscle until your body slowly came to accept the intrusion, and then become greedy for it. Soon both holes were grasping greedily at the fingers inside them, trying to suck them in deeper.
The pleasure built… and built… and built…
But they wouldn't let you climax.
Slowly, one by one, they pulled away from you. You whimpered and mewled in protest, earning soft chuckles. Someone pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, their tits brushing briefly against yours.
"Hush, little one," they murmured. "The sun is about to set. You're to meet our almighty now." They felt you stiffen, and laughed softly. "Do not be afraid. You are about to be blessed beyond measure. Just be patient."
The words barely penetrated the haze of lust. You lifted your head to watch as the others walked away. And as they disappeared, you knew that it would be so easy to reach down and touch yourself, to bring yourself to orgasm. It was tempting, beyond tempting, with how aroused you were.
But it felt… wrong, somehow.
So rather than reach down to strum your throbbing clit, you took up where the others had left off, massaging the oil deeper into your skin. You'd reached down to cup your tits, kneading your aching flesh, when you heard something unexpected.
The sound of sloshing water.
Fear threatened to pierce through the arousal.
You levered yourself up on your elbows just in time to watch as the first tentacle emerged from the pool. And then another…
… and another…
… until you were surrounded by them.
The beginnings of terror skittered down your spine. You parted your lips as a scream built up in your throat. But some base part of you… recognised the creature. Even though it's body—undoubtedly massive—was still hidden beneath the surface of the pool, you knew what this was.
This was your god, the one you'd been chosen to serve.
And so, instead of a scream, a whisper slipped past your lips.
"Please."
That was all it took. Cold tentacles coated in some kind of viscous fluid slithered around your wrists and ankles, spreading your legs apart and bringing your arms up over your head. The creature was incomprehensibly strong, impossible for even a hundred men to fight back against.
But you had no interest in resisting. Instead, your rapt gaze tried to take in everything at once, even your arousal eclipsed by your curiosity. The tentacles ranged in size from no wider than your pinky to as thick as your forearm. It was impossible to tell what colour they were, with the low light in the cave glistening off the creature's skin in a rainbow of different hues.
However, none of that was the most fascinating thing about the creature.
No. That distinction belonged to whatever substance it was secreting from its skin. Your skin tingled everywhere the creature touched, like flashes of pleasure zapping across your flesh and centering in your drenched cunt. Parts of your body you'd never given much thought to—the curve of your waist, your collar bone, your arch of your feet—all became erogenous zones.
Every slide of the creature's skin against yours sent pleasure zinging through you. It was like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You basked in your god's love, absorbing it deep into your pores.
And that was when you felt a slender tendril curl around one of your aching nipples. You cried out, and the sound echoed through the cavern.
It was divine ecstasy. You wanted to feel it everywhere. And so, following some instinct you didn't quite understand, you arched your back and parted your thighs as much as you could, wordlessly encouraging the creature to continue its exploration of your body.
The response was immediate. Most of the larger tentacles had been hovering around you while the smaller, more nimble appendages crept along your bare form. Now, the larger tentacles swarmed you, wrapping around your waist, curling around your thighs…
And plunging into your soaked cunt.
Yes.
Your orgasm was almost instantaneous. A shocked, ecstatic cry tore itself free from your throat, only to be cut off by another tentacle pressing past your lips and down your throat.
The taste…
Ambrosia.
How had you lived without this for so long? You slurped hungrily on the tentacle, desperate to get your fill and utterly convinced that you never would. The syrupy taste of the tentacle almost eclipsed the pleasure flooding through your body from the tentacle pumping into your pussy. It made your head swim, and you were grateful for the tentacles holding you in place, or you feared you would have floated up to the ceiling.
An impossible number of tentacles surrounded you. The smaller ones zeroed in on the parts of your body that were most sensitive; the hollow of your throat, the back of your neck, your nipples, your clit.
And all the while, the ones in your cunt pistoned in and out of your body, stretching you impossibly wide. The sounds they made as they slid through your pussy was obscene, a beautiful harmony to the helpless grunts that escaped your throat despite the tentacle in your mouth.
Greedy, you tried to absorb it all, tried to etch every sensation into your memory.
Little did you realise that that was only the beginning.
The tentacles inside your pussy slowly withdrew, as did the one in your mouth, leaving you utterly bereft. It was agony, and you had to be the worst kind of sinner to deserve such a fate. An agonised wail tore itself free from your throat, and you thrashed in a desperate attempt to coax the creature back inside you.
It did not leave you to suffer for long.
With little ceremony, the creature stuffed another tentacle down your throat, and oh. It was one of the same tentacles that had been buried in your cunt. Your taste mingled with the sweetness from the creature's skin, utterly delicious. Another orgasm rippled through you, making you shudder and gasp and arch your hips, fucking up into nothing.
The creature accepted your wordless invitation. Another tentacle invaded your cunt, this one as thick as your forearm; you felt an insistent pressure at your rear entrance and knew that it was only a matter of time before another tentacle began fucking your ass. The smaller tentacles continued to toy with your nipples and clit, flicking over the sensitive buds until you saw stars.
And yet, despite how exquisite it all felt… you wanted more. You needed more.
And so, you received.
The creature picked up it's pace, fucking you harder and faster and deeper. You could feel the tip of its tentacle bumping up against your cervix, and a crazy thought flashed through your mind.
You wanted it to come inside you.
Fuck.
Eyes rolling back just imagining it, you sucked harder on the tentacle in your mouth, glutting yourself on its taste as though you that would convince the creature to empty its loads into you. The idea should have horrified you; that much come from a creature this size… it was impossible. You'd burst.
You need it like you needed your next breath.
The tentacle at your asshole finally pressed inside you. You'd never been so full; you never wanted to be left empty again. Helplessly, you clenched around the creature as yet another orgasm rolled through you.
It was all too much. Darkness encroached at the edges of your vision, and you surrendered gladly to escape the almost excruciating pleasure.
You weren't sure how long you'd blacked out for. Was it the wet, slapping sounds of the creature fucking your holes that woke you, or the next round of orgasms wracking your body?
None of it mattered.
Because the tentacle in your mouth—fucking your throat with a delicious gluk gluk gluk—had swollen, and the secretion from its skin had coated the roof of your mouth and the back of your tongue and—
More of the sweet liquid spurted from its tip and poured down your throat. It threatened to choke you; precious drops leaked from the corners of your mouth as you struggled to drink it all down. You knew that if you could, you'd have wailed in protest at the loss. Instead, you focused on gulping down as much as the syrupy fluid as you could.
You were so focused on the tentacle in your mouth that you almost missed the strange, fluttering sensation at your cervix. Something… something was entering your womb. Was the creature coming inside of you?
But you didn't have any time to ponder what was happening. Come was being pumped into your mouth and ass as you shuddered through yet another orgasm.
The creature fucking you was relentless. It seemed determined to see you filled to the brim, and as soon as one tentacle pulled out of one your soaked holes, another took its place. The tentacle in your cunt, so deliciously, agonisingly thick, finally pulled out, and more immediately swarmed to take its place.
Had you been more lucid, you may have wanted to take a look at that tentacle, to wonder how it differed from the others. But coherent thought was beyond you now. All you cared about was being a receptacle to your god's pleasure, to being filled up with its most holy essence.
You lost count of the number of times you came. By now, the tentacles that had been holding your wrists and ankles had released their grip; you were too come drunk to even lift your head, let alone resist. Those tentacles took their turn fucking you and coming inside your limp body.
How long had it been since you'd entered the cave? Hours? Days? Your belly was round and swollen from number of loads that had been pumped into you. The air smelled like sex and cum and sweat, a heady mixture that you breathed deep into your lungs. There was a puddle beneath you, a mixture of your juices and the creature's come that had spilled from your swollen cunt with each tentacle that fucked you and added to it.
You never wanted to leave this place.
But light was beginning to spill into the cave. The sun was coming up.
Your night of divine sacrifice was coming to an end. The creature seemed to sense it as well. Slowly, one by one, the tentacles withdrew from where they surrounded you and back into the water, until only the one in your mouth remained. As awful as losing the ones in your cunt and asshole had been, the thought of this tentacle leaving you was almost unbearable.
Nursing hungrily on the tentacle—as though you hadn't glutted yourself on its come the whole night—you didn't notice the sound of footsteps until the others had stopped just before the dais.
There were gasps and whispers. You felt giddy at the prospect of them seeing you service your god this way, and weakly spread your legs so that they might see the your soaked, puffy holes.
At last, the creature extracted its final tentacle from your slackened mouth and disappeared back into the pond.
You were beyond exhausted by now, and so uncomfortably full of come that you thought you might die from it. Despite all that, you reached up a trembling hand to rub your belly. If only there were a way too keep all of this inside you forever.
Finally, the others joined you up on the dais. Their expressions were awestruck.
"It's never stayed past sunrise before," someone murmured. "It's a miracle."
They hurried over to you and gentle hands helped you to sit up. Your skin was coated in come, and it made it difficult for them to keep a hold of you. You wanted to lick the taste of your god from their fingers.
"I want… I want m… more," you whispered in a hoarse voice. If you were able, you'd have crawled into the pond in search of the creature. Exhaustion rolled over you in a wave; your eyelids were so heavy.
There were soft chuckles around you, and you basked in the warmth of the sound as the others surrounded you to lift you to your feet. It took two of them to support your weight. Come dribbled from your cunt and down onto the dais, making a soft dripping sound. You mourned the loss of every precious drop.
"I, uh, I don't…" You licked your lips and could still taste the creature there. "I don't think I can… I can w… walk."
"Don't fret," a voice murmured just behind your shoulder. You felt them tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. "All we need to do is get you outside. Do you think you can make it that far?"
I'll try, you wanted to say. But you were so tired. So you simply nodded, allowing the others to guide you as you shuffled forward on unsteady legs.
You didn't remember the trip down the mountain; you didn't remember entering your home. The last thing you were aware of before unconsciousness pulled you under was someone brushing a feather light kiss across your brow, and a soft whisper in your ear.
thinking about just havin fun as a club-goer, hopping from bar to bar n dancing with people, getting my makeouts in, enjoying the music and consuming drink after drink, widening my smile and lowering my inhibition with each spot i go between
n at some point, i end up in a strip club.
where my lowered inhibition and lack of senses leads to someone gluing my hands to a strip pole.
am i stripper? no, absolutely not.
but i don't decline a chance to enjoy performing up on a stage - and so with my newfound position on the stage, I'll give a few twirls and dance up and down to feel the eyes of onlookers and cheers of those watching as i put on my show
but what when i try to leave the platform and get back down from the platform? well, that's when i realise that someone must have put superglue on the pole, or on my hands - because one way or another - my hands aren't coming away from that stupidly rotating pole
my head's already clouded and spinning, and with my hands not moving from the pole, the smile becomes something more helpless across my features as im forced to keep moving with the pole, no escape from performing and being attached to it now
my cries are seemingly humourous to the onlookers, as previously they were entertained by my slutty little dancing, they seemed even more entertained to see my expression warp to tears and helplessness as i cried for someone's help
it became even more amusing for the crowd when they realised just how powerless i was in this position, no hands to defend myself nor ability to move from the platform - as someone got up onto the stage and lifted my dress to above my hips, bringing roars of laughter and support as my bare pussy now became something that was not fun to flash, but a public fact as it was exposed to the club - either rough hand of this stranger clapping against my ass and grabbing a handful of flesh, pulling my cheeks apart to expose my asshole to the audience before i felt his cold, slick saliva get spat against the hole - his hands still holding my cheeks open and visible so that i could feel (and the crowd could watch) as the spit dribbled down from my asshole to my pussy, making my legs shiver with the tantalising slowness with which the cold fluid dripped over my sex
and that bold move seemed to be the gateway for more to shame me in my position, one by one.
someone else thought it'd be fun to have their way with me with their head between the pole to support the back of his head, and my pussy against his mouth - two other guys holding me up by either thigh and jumping me up and down in their arms so that the stiff tongue of the man who sat against the pole could taste my pussy while hearing my screams as my pussy was slickened and thumped with its own heartbeat of immense arousal and anxiety for the mass of people watching me as i was made into some fucktoy against my own will
i cried when i saw someone crawl up onto the stage with their cock already out of their pants.
gasps and sobs of pleas for them not to touch me n not to fuck me were made pointless as he grasped me by my thighs, pulling my body away from the pole so that my hands (which were still connected by the pole, and feeling any looser) kept me upright while my back arched, pussy visible to the audience as i bent over before releasing a scream as i felt someone thick entering my hole, stretching and sinking into my walls and letting out the deepest of groans as they had all the time in the world to push my hips back and forth, fucking me on their cock until they finished and let it drip down my thighs
more n more cum was deposited into my pussy. like my cries were incentive for more people to stuff me with their seed.
and by the end of the night, somehow I'd had my ankles tied to the pole, too. hands above my head and ankles tied, neck of a beer bottle shoved up my pussy as a plug to keep everyone's cum in me - and that bottle too roped-tied in place using the pole.
though passed out from being overused, i still spun with the rotational forces of the pole, cum slowly trickling out around the beer bottle.
the next day when all the same regulars came in n saw me, still trapped against that same pole - my makeup today more runny, the same dress as last night yet this time with more rips in it...
they took it in their greatest stride to force me to drink from the cum-soaked beer bottle that'd spent the day between my legs - forcing n watching as some man's hand controlled the back of my head, forcing me to give fellatio to the neck of the bottle - dribbling up the day-old cum from my lips before the same torture began once more
You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. He didn’t ask for your consent. He just saw you bent over, looking at the snacks on the lower shelf and grabbed your ass.
Your heart pounded and you stopped breathing, but your cunt clenched and soaked immediately. His hand slid across your soft ass and you felt his finger tips gently trace the folds of your pussy. Still you didn’t stop him. Still you didn’t cry out. You just stayed there, letting this complete stranger fondle you.
Your silence emboldened him. Quickly he went from a gentle caress, to fingering you. Panties pulled aside, his thick fingers pump in and out of your wet cunt as you grab the shelving to steady yourself. Biting your lip, you try to stifle your moans as your cunt flutters around his thick digits.
Then you’re suddenly empty and instead of feeling relieved it’s over, you feel disappointment. You were getting close, close to cumming on some random mans fingers. But then you feel it. Something hot and hard press to your puffy lips.
Looking back, you see his bare cock. Hard and throbbing for you. Before you can say anything, he sinks into you hard. One forceful thrust and all of him is buried in you. There’s no stopping your half moan of pleasure and half cry of pain as you are forcefully stretched around his girth.
Your sound doesn’t stop him. He just grabs your hips tight, and fucks you. Fast and hard his hips slap into you, over and over. The wet sound of your pussy echoing down the mostly quiet aisle.
Grabbing the shelf harder you moan like the whore you are as you let this stranger use you. Use you like the free use slut you are. Your hole squeezes him hard and he hisses through his teeth. His fingers dig into your soft hips harder as he pulls you back to meet each thrust.
“Let me see her tits!” An excited man says suddenly and you turn to see some other man watching from a few feet away.
His cock is out and it’s hard. His hand strokes it slowly and you see precum dribbling from the fat head to the shaft where his hand smears it with each stroke. In his other hand is his phone and he’s recording you.
You want to tell him to stop, but you only groan and drop your head in shame as you cum on the strangers cock. It isn’t a powerful orgasm, but it still feels so amazing that you don’t realize you were turned and had your clothes pulled aside so your tits are out for all to see.
The man strokes his cock harder and groans as he records your bouncing tits. The stranger holds your arms so you can’t cover yourself while giving him leverage to keep fucking you.
You need to stop before things go too far, but you don’t do anything to stop them. You let the man use your cunt until he presses in as deep as he can and cums. His cock throbbing inside you as rope after rope of hot cum fills you.
The man watching strokes his cock hard and fast and he blasts his load all over your tits and the floor. Then they are done with you.
The man pulls out of you and tucks his cock away as the other ends the recording and puts himself away. You fall to the tile floor, landing in the mans cum as they talk excitedly to each other.
They have already forgotten you as they exchange numbers so the second man can send the video to the first man. When you look up at them, they are already walking away. Laughing and slapping each other on the back as you are left on the cold floor. Some random strangers cum dripping across your tits while another strangers cum drips from your cunt. And you smile.
Getting up, you fix your clothing and make yourself presentable just as another man turns into your aisle. You glance at him and your heart races as you bend over to look at the snacks again. Turning slightly, you angle your ass that’s barely covered in your short skirt towards him. Hoping this new man will be as brave as the last man was.
It starts with a guy from work. You've seen him around before; you think he works in IT because he always seems to be at someone else's computer. But you've never spoken to him. You're not even sure if you've ever made eye contact with him.
You must have done something to attract his attention, though, because one day after work he follows you home. You notice him first on the bus. That's strange—you've never seen him on here before. Maybe he usually stays later than you, or maybe his car is in the shop. You wonder if you should say hello or something, but you decide against it. The guy probably wouldn't even recognize you.
It's a few minutes after disembarking the bus before you realize the guy has gotten off too. You hear sound behind you, maybe the scuff of a shoe on the sidewalk, and you turn to look. There he is, about a block behind you, walking intently toward you. Shit. This is not an accident, not some weird coincidence. This man is following you.
You speed up, and you hear him do the same. You glance back, and see he's gaining on you. He knows you're onto him now; he has no reason to be stealthy. Your house is only a block away, but at this pace he might catch up with you before then. . .
You break into a sprint. There's no use pretending now, this is a pursuit and you don't intend to be caught. You hear him give chase behind you, but you don't waste time on looking back. You get your keys ready as you run, so when you arrive at the door you have it open in five seconds flat.
Then he crashes into you. You fall together to the carpeted floor of your front hallway. He's on top of you, pinning you down, kicking the door closed behind him. You struggle, but he's surprisingly powerful for an IT guy; he pushes your head into the ground, rubbing the side of your face raw against the carpet as he roughly kisses your neck. He's grinding against your ass, and you can feel through his pants how hard he is. That's when you finally start screaming.
He hikes up your pencil skirt, grunting with sick lust. You beg him to leave you alone, tell him you'll give him money, give him whatever he wants. He pulls your panties aside, and you feel his lips brush your ear as he leans in close.
"All I want is you."
He rapes you raw, ramming his cock again and again into your unlubricated pussy. You scream in pain and fear and disgust, and soon he's taking you by the hips and pulling you into him, burying his cock as deep as it'll go as he fills you up with his foul seed. You stay there for a moment, the two of you: him savoring the feel of your pussy, you too broken to stop him. Then he pulls out, and moments later you hear the front door open and shut.
The guy goes to jail, eventually. You manage to scrape yourself off the floor, call the police. It's obvious to look at you that you've been assaulted, and the guy didn't bother to cover his tracks. At some point someone swabs your vagina, which is humiliating, but at that point you're too out of it to care much. When the case goes to court, the guy pleads guilty, says he knew there'd be consequences, but he decided it'd be worth it. He shoots you a wink across the courtroom. Says he was right.
You used to masturbate regularly. Just a bit of fun, a way to relax after a long day at work. You try it a few times after the incident, maybe trying to reclaim ownership of your own body, but it no longer seems to do anything for you. You use your fingers, your vibrators, your dildo, but none of them work. You can still feel them, you know they should feel good, but touching your pussy now feels no different than touching your hand. Any sensation of sexual pleasure is gone.
But you're still horny. Maybe hornier than you were before. Your pussy gets wet at nothing, and something deep in your groin aches for an orgasm. Trying to make yourself cum becomes almost an obsession. You spend hours every evening watching every variety of porn you can find, going to town on yourself with every toy in your arsenal, and some new ones you pick up just to try. You pick up guys in bars, fuck them in bathrooms or back alleys, but each encounter just ends with you moaning performatively, telling them how good they feel, and letting them cum inside you just to get it over with. After six months you're so horny that you sometimes have trouble thinking straight, and you've pretty much resigned yourself to the fact that you're unlikely ever to cum again.
And then a man gropes you on the street.
It's broad daylight. You were already getting a bad vibe from him before he crossed the street, and now he's walking next to you, talking to you, asking if you want to go on a date, asking why you don't want to talk to him. Then, without warning, his hand is up your skirt, fingers snaking past your panties, violating you.
You have to press your knees together not to cum right there.
A few passersby pull him off you, throw him to the ground, someone is calling the police. But you don't have time to wait for the police. You have to get somewhere private, now. You duck into the nearest alley, crouch behind a dumpster to block the view from the street, and begin to masturbate furiously. Your fingers come away sloppy and wet, but you feel absolutely nothing. You cover your face with your hands and scream with frustration.
You try not to think about it. For a few long weeks you try to justify it, explain it away, but you know what you felt, and you know in your heart what finally did it. You wonder if it's even worth it, if an orgasm or two is really all that great, but you can't deny the affect this inability to cum is having your life: your work is slipping, your relationships deteriorating. You're lost in fantasies, imagining elaborate scenarios that might make you cum, knowing they never would. The more you think about it, the more you think you don't have any other choice.
One night you take the bus to a bad part of town. You leave your wallet, your keys, everything but the bus fare, at home. You wear an outfit you bought just for this: a skirt that barely covers three fourths of your ass. A shirt that flatters your cleavage, and lets your hard nipples poke out of the fabric. You consider going without panties, but you worry if you give too much invitation it won't work. You hope to god no one you know sees you like this; it's probably more skin than you've revealed publicly since you were a baby.
You walk past three men standing on a street corner. They whistle at you, invite you to let them show you a good time, but you keep walking. Your heart races as you hear them take up stride behind you; it's not that you want to be raped again, per se. You're terrified of being raped, in fact. But you need so desperately to cum that you're willing to ignore the fear, the humiliation, the pain. Tears stream down your face as you turn into an alley and quickly find it ends in a dead end. You turn around to face the men, who now block your exit.
"Come on, baby, you don't have to be like that," say the man in front. He looks like the oldest of the three, has a big bald spot and a belly that hangs over his belt. The other two are a little younger: one is broad and muscular and covered in tattoos, the other scrawny and nervous.
Without a word you approach the older man, one step at a time, trying not to let your knees wobble or your lips quiver. He snickers and makes a joke to his cronies, but you don't hear it—all you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears. You get in close, face to face with him, and he purses his lips in a taunting mock kiss. You spit full force in his face.
He wheels back, wiping his face. The other men look shocked, unsure exactly what to do, but he knows what to do. He knows exactly what to do. "You fucking bitch!" He's grabbing you by the throat, throwing you up against the wall, holding a knife to your throat. "You want to act like a cunt?" He lifts up your tiny skirt. "Then cunt is all you're good for."
It's like fireworks through your body the moment his fingers are in your pussy. You clench around him, involuntarily willing him further inside. An exultant moan forces itself through your lips before you can even think. This is not like any fingering ever was before, by your own hand or someone else's. This is a new height of pleasure, and you have a feeling this is only the beginning.
"This little slut is into it," says the man, almost in wonder. He turns to the scrawny guy. "Keep watch. This bitch needs to be taught a lesson."
He takes you by the neck again and throws you to the ground. You take a few ugly scrapes from the gravely asphalt, but you know now that this pain is minor compared to the reward it'll earn you. At the older man's instruction the tattooed guy holds you down, one hand holding both wrists over your head, the other pinning you to the ground by your throat. You struggle to breath, unable even to turn your head to see what's going on, but you don't need to wait long.
This rape is better than the last one. You never thought you'd be comparing rapes like some kind of connoisseur, but there it is. Face up is marginally more comfortable face down, and starting with your pussy already wet makes a world of difference. The older man has to lift his belly to get inside you, and once he's in he lets it roll over you like a smelly, hairy pillow. The feeling of him inside you is incredible. You thought you liked sex, but now you realize you had no idea what it was. You moan wildly, uncontrollably, and the more pleasure you feel the angrier your rapist gets. He thrusts like he's trying to beat you senseless, but it just makes it better, and before long you're cumming harder than you've ever cum in your life, screaming in ecstasy and thrashing violently against is pelvis. Maybe it's the motion, or maybe it's your pussy squeezing like it'll never let him go, but the man gives a strangled groan and shoots warm, lovely cum into the darkest recesses of your body.
You're still panting when the older man says to the other, "you gotta try this bitch." They trade places, and now the older man is holding you down, but he isn't as strong as other guy, so he has to hold his knife to your throat. The tattooed guy's cock is bigger than the other's, and the moment it's past your pussy lips you know you're going to cum again. This rape is harder; the guy has less to move, so he's able to pound you faster. You feel like his cock is splitting you open with every thrust, but the pain isn't really even pain anymore. It's just another part of the building orgasm. The knife nicks your skin (he's having trouble holding it still with all the thrashing you're doing) and you just squeal with delight. You're approaching another climax, so without really thinking about it you wrap your legs around the guy's waist and drive him right into you down to the balls, eyes rolling back as he fills you with your second load in the last ten minutes. He lets out a surprisingly soft whimper and runs his hands over your thighs, as if enjoying their softness.
The old guy calls the last one over, the scrawny one with the uncomfortable look on his face. The old guy tells him to fuck you. He looks nervously at you, and then back at his leader. Just to play with him, you start begging him, pleading him to let you go. "Don't do this to me. Please, I'm sorry, I won't tell anyone, please just let me go!" He looks like he's going to refuse until the old guy presses the knife into your neck, drawing a thin stripe of wet pain across your skin.
Stammering apologies, the guy pulls out his cock and climbs over you. You don't let him look away from your eyes, begging and telling him you know he's better than this, please, you know he's not like them, and he's inside you and you're screaming. Screaming like a rabbit caught in a trap, a long, piercing scream that erupts into uncontrollable fits of giddy laughter as you mount your third orgasm of the night.
You feel crazy. You feel like a feral animal. Some part of you wonders if you'll be able to go back to normal, go back to work tomorrow like none of this happened. The scrawny guy's cock is surprisingly big; it fills you up real nice. But he's not going hard enough. This is hardly even rape, it's just a sad fuck. You pull your tits out over the low-cut neckline of your shirt, give him something to look at, but all that happens is his cock gets a little harder. You need more.
Before you even quite know what you're doing, you throw yourself up at him. The knife cuts you as the old guy loses his grip on it, but you don't care. You roll on top of the scrawny guy and start fucking him like you need to be fucked, hard and fast and angry. In the spur of the moment you put your hand on his neck and bear down, watching his eyes bulge and his mouth open and close like a goldfish. You're just getting the idea that you should bite into his shoulder, tear something off him, when a pair of muscular arms hook under your armpits and pull you back.
You lose your grip on his neck, but the animal part of you refuses to give up his cock. Your legs lock underneath him, dragging him with you as the tattooed man tries to pull you away. He's close, you can feel it in the rhythm of his throbbing cock. Just a few more gyrations and. . .
When he explodes inside you it's like you can feel his cum swirling through your entire body, filling you up from the bottom to the top. A satisfied warmth washes over you and you let him go, torrents of cum pouring out of you in his wake.
The arms drop you and the scrawny man fumbles to get his pants up. "This bitch is fucking crazy!" says the tattooed man behind you, and before you know it all three of them are stumbling out of the alley.
You flop on the asphalt, exhausted, but completely satisfied for the first time in six months. You let the aftershocks ripple over you, basking in the glow of the blood on your neck, the cum in your pussy. As you stare up at the black sky, you wonder how long it'll be before you have to do this again.
Imagine having a perverted ghost obsessed with exposing you. They gradually turn you into the town whore.
It starts with your clothes disappearing. You go to your closet and all you have for bottoms are skirts. Your panties and bras disappear one by one until you just stop wearing them.
Whenever you walk by a man in public, your skirt blows up whether there's wind or not. Every man in town has seen your pussy by now. Many of them see it daily.
If you're wearing white, you can guarantee you'll have water spilled on you at some point during the day. People like to joke about your free wet tshirt contests.
Your shirt unbuttons itself while you talk to people. Most people don't mention it anymore. They just stare at your bare tits until you realize.
People in town trade the best stories of seeing you naked. That time your bikini fell off at the beach and you couldn't find it and the day the wind blew your sundress fully off at the town fair are top favorites.
Eventually, people get bolder. They start taking photos of your clothing mishaps. The ghost is always sure to hold your skirt up long enough for them to get a good shot. Pictures of your ass, tits, and pussy are everywhere.
Not only do they not tell you when your shirt falls open, people start to grope you. It's not even worth fighting it. You let them feel you up until they've had their fill. Eventually, people don't even pretend they need to talk to you. They come to see you just to play with your tits.
The ghost doesn't even need to lift your skirt anymore. People in town will lift it up just to squeeze or slap your ass.
You get used to being fingered out in public. On the bus, in line at the store, even at work. Everyone has seen your pussy anyway.
People start licking your pussy every time you ride the bus. You sit with your legs open so people can taste you on their morning commute. You don't remember what it was like to ride the bus without a tongue inside you.
Every man in town as fucked you at some point. Most of the women too. Instead of paying at the store, you bend over and let anyone present abuse your pussy. You lose count of how many men shove their dick inside you daily.
Your porn becomes the town's main export. Videos of you being fucked in every possible location are all over the internet. People travel to town just to fuck you. Instead of shaking hands, you introduce yourself by spreading your legs.
I've been daydreaming about being fingered on a train ride.
Its a busy day and my train ride is going to be a while until I make it to my destination. Im wearing a dress that goes to my midthigh and Im on my way to my friends party. I get into the train car and scooch my way in where I now have to stand in front of a man in the corner at the end of the train and im sandwiched between him and the wall of the train car. I have my one hand overhead holding on to the bar to steady myself and my other hand is holding my bag so both my hands cant really move.
Everyone around is busy chatting w each other or have headphones on. Every now and again the train screeches a turn and the mans body squishes against mine from shoulder to pelvis and he always quickly apologizes but doesnt move back. at one point his body is just fully pressing me into the train car wall and i cant move with minutes going by. Im smaller so no one really sees me behind his siholoutte. I try to squirm away but I feel his hard on against my stomach and I cant tell if hes rubbing against me on purpose or if its the jostling. I feel his leg stand in between my legs, with his thigh rubbing my crotch and getting rough enough to rub against my clit. I feel my body getting warmed at the teasing of touches but I cant move anywhere in the packed train car. My breathing hitches as his thigh rubs and rubs and rubs at my vee and the train movements are making me hump his thigh over and over and over on accident. I push myself back against the wall but his thigh stays attached to my vee, lifting until Im on my tiptoes w his thigh holding me up and Im basically riding his thigh
then I feel his hand on my waist and he leans down to whisper, "Do you mind? Its easier to hold you than the bar. My stop is soon." I dont know how to respond with my mind in such a daze so I just nod, my thoughts a complete mess. He'll leave soon and I'll be free, I tell myself. But then the train jostles and his hand slides down to my hip, down to the hem of my dress and slides up underneath - now hes holding my waist from under my dress fully gripping my skin. I meet his eyes and he looks intrigued at me, pushing my limits on how much I'll let him get away with. Im breathing hard and still squirming under him and it makes him smirk for a moment. He takes that moment to slide his hand down into my underwear and I have to hide my face in his chest to keep from moaning as his fingers tease my soaked clit and entrance. I try to close my thighs but his thigh is holding them firmly open.
I can tell hes satisfied w how wet I am and then his fingers go inside and I release a moan and I feel him rumble a laugh as he leans down to speak into my ear "I knew you were a needy slut as soon as I saw you" and then he pushes me back against the train car wall and pushes a second finger in with his palm flush against my clit rolling and slowly goes in and out with a come here motion that drives me insane and I feel how wet I am dripping onto this strangers hands. I dont even notice Im holding onto him now, undecided with pushing him away and keeping him close as a shield. Im so scared of someone catching us with his fingers inside me and its making me clench more around his fingers, making everything feel ten times better.
his fingers are working me in the right spot and fear grips me as I start to feel an orgasm building. "s-s-stopp," I whimper, afraid if someone hearing me cum, and all of a sudden his fingers stop moving inside me and his body lifts from mine, cold air rushing in where his body heat was and I almost start crying from how needy I am before I realize that he listened to me. I look up at him w tears in my eyes and a whine in my voice, still feeling his fingers in me. He leans down "If you want to cum you have to say you want me to make you cum" I shudder and curse bc I know its wrong and I feel so ashamed at how much I need him to make me orgasm but I cant think straight so I nod at him and he tsk tsks me. "Use your fucking words."
I moan and almost start crying as I lean up to say to this stranger "p-p-please make me cum" and as soon as the words are out hes pressing up against me again and relentlessly fingering me with his palm on my clit and my eyes roll to the back of my head as he rips an orgasm out of my body w his fingers and Im squirming as I start dripping down his hands and biting my lip to keep from moaning too loudly. The man laughs as the train pulls to a stop and his fingers slide out of me. He tastes me on his fingers and growls. "Good girl" and he fixes my dress for me. "I'll see you around" he says louder and walks off the train, which confuses me further. Im standing there dazed as my senses are coming back to me, and finally notice I missed my stop. Shame and embarrassment flood me as I realize what just happened ... yet I feel so good still that I dont care. I reach in my purse for a tissue and- In my purse is the mans contact information in a card. I blush again and feel angry all over at him. I cant believe that I let that happen.
I get off the train at the next stop with wobbly legs and soaked thighs and a flush to my cheeks, trying to orient myself to get back on schedule
I think I may actually really like the idea of a sexually abusive boyfriend, if done in moderation, and it's all purely fantasy between me and my partner. I can just imagine our day to day life with them. For instance, I try to talk on a subject of importance or something smart, and he just pulls out my tit's and tells me tongue and bounce. So I do, I stick me tounge out and start bouncing my tit's up and down. I probably look like a real stupid whore, and that's exactly what he wants, he just smiles and pets me head and tells me good girl as he goes back to whatever he was doing. If I'm in university and doing some school work, he has a vibrator in my pussy on the highest setting so even though I try my hardest to concentrate on school work, I can't and just keep cumming, eventually giving up on my school work and begging him to fuck me. He does this until I don't even bother with school anymore and let myself fail. At least I'll still have my boyfriend. If I get horny but he's in no mood to play, he offers his leg or shoe as a mean to masterbate. Since I'm not allowed to actually play with myself, this is a way for me to get off without him having to do anything. Every single thing I do, he'll try his best to make it as dehumanizing for me as possible, all for his enjoyment and amusement. If I'm eating, he'll have me bouncing on a dildo, cumming as I swallow my food. If I'm showering? His cock is up my cunt pounding away without a care of me trying to get clean. We already know how sleeping goes. My "alarm clock" is him fucking my throat and cumming down it. Even when we go out, he has me put on nipple clamps. Makes me dress like a whore, outfits that barely cover my ass and cunt, with no panties on. I get dirty looks everywhere we go for the way I dress, them not knowing this isn't how I want to dress, I but dress like this anyway to please my boyfriend.
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